Saving Mom
by TurnYourBack
Summary: Fourteen-Year-Old Dustin Broke has already had enough stress in his life already without his mother adding to it. But now he's been sent on a mission by a small-town doctor to save the only parent he has left, with his two younger brothers in tow.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

**Mom's Not Right And Now We're Off To See The Wizard**

The sun rose over the hills, throwing away the darkness to the other side of the world as the citizens of Pleasantview awakened for yet another day. But this wasn't just yet another day. For Dustin Richard Broke, it was the least anticipated day of the year: his birthday.

As he got out of bed, glancing at his sleeping brother Beau in the bed on the other side of the room, he scratched his head, yawned, and stretched out his arms until he heard his shoulders crack. Today was the one-year anniversary of his father's drowning, Richard "Skip" Broke.

Sitting on the edge of the creaky old bed, he remembered how his father had had too much to drink at his thirteenth birthday, and jumped into the pool to show off for a reason nobody could fathom, drowning. Half-smirking, he also remembered how he had convinced his dad that having a little was okay, since it was both his and his dad's birthday, after all.

It just so happened that, thirteen years before that, on Skip's twenty-second birthday, Dustin was born. August 29th, 1994. So, after a debate over a name, they settled on Dustin, the name of an unlucky relative's evil in-law. (They only found that out later after Dustin did a family history study in the fourth grade). And to Dustin's displeasure, after his father's death and his thirteenth birthday, he'd never had a good day since.

Frowning, Dustin listened for his mother, but didn't hear her up and about like usual. Shaking his head, he got up, tripped on the pinball machine he had got for his tenth birthday, and caught himself before he could do a faceplant.

"Stupid thing," he muttered to himself, accidentally waking up Beau.

Beau yawned. "Wha. . . . ?"

Dustin shook his head. "Morning, kiddo."

"Morning," Beau sighed, half-asleep and going under fast.

As Dustin left the room, he heard an odd sound coming from the bedroom. Running inside, he saw his mother, Brandi, and his littlest brother, Noah, squabbling. Well, more like Brandi was attempting to give him a time out, and Noah was saying gibberish in her general direction as he played with a parcel clumsily wrapped in newspaper.

Brandi turned. "Happy birthday, honey," she said, smiling with only a hint of real emotion. His mother never fared well on special occasions after her husband's death, so Dustin decided to be on his best behaviour to help her out a little.

"Thanks, Mom. What's Noah got there?" Dustin asked, gesturing to the parcel Noah was chewing on.

Brandi sighed, fumbling with her wedding band like she did when she was stressed out and didn't know what to say. Dustin reached down and knelt in front of Noah, who smiled.

"Hey, buddy," Dustin said, tugging gently at the parcel, "I need that now. If you give it to me, you can play with me later on, okay?" He tried his best to sound sincere, and Noah bought it.

"Kay-kay!" Noah squealed, handing over the soggy present. Dustin grimaced, but switched to a smile as Noah looked up at him.

Tearing it open over Brandi's bed, he saw that it was a white box with the word "SimTel" across the top. Opening it, he pulled out a shiny blue and silver cell phone with the number engraved across the back with a bunch of fiddly manuals and chargers spilling out after it.

Finally, something he'd dreamed for, year after tedious year, in the palm of his hand.

Holding the cell phone as careful as fine china, he looked up at his mom, beaming. "How did you pay for this?"

Brandi smiled weakly, putting her arm around Dustin. "I've been saving since your eighth birthday for this, Dustin. It's not like I took money out of the general funds. . . ."

Dustin shook his head, amazed. His mom was so caring, taking out from her measly welfare checks for years to buy Dustin a cell phone, and a good one too.

"Thank you soooooo much, you have no idea -" Dustin started, but stopped when he saw the look on his mother's face. She was tearing up, her smoke gray eyes glazing over as she held her eldest son.

"You look so much like your father today, Dustin. Even your voice. . . . it's like he's there, inside of you, somewhere," Brandi whispered, the tears spilling over as she cried into Dustin's shoulder.

Sighing, he patted his mother's hand. "I am half of him, y'know," he said, but his attempt at humor fell flat as she started to bawl all over Dustin's muscle shirt.

"Oh, my baby, my Dusty. . . ." she muttered, turning him to face her by the shoulders.

Not knowing what to say, Dustin stayed silent.

Finally, she cried herself out. "I just want you to take care of your brothers when I'm gone," she finally said.

Confused, Dustin gave her a look. "What do you mean? Mom, you're thirty-five, not ninety-five. You're not going to die tomorrow."

Looking away, Brandi dropped her hands. "Dustin, I have something to tell you."

"What? What happened?"

She hesitated. "Well, I went to go see Dr. Burb about some hallucinations I've been having lately."

Dustin was taken aback. "You mean like. . . . seeing things? Why didn't you tell me, we could've -"

"No, Dustin. Not just seeing. Doing, feeling, believing. And when I went back to normal, I never knew how I had got to that place, what time it was or even what I had done. I only knew deep down that I had slipped up. Let my past take over. And Dr. Burb. . . . well, Dr. Burb looked at my brain in a machine. He said that I had something very wrong with my brain, but he didn't say exactly what. He just said that it's not treatable, and there's no cure. He also said that he would see to it that I see a therapist and check into a mental health facility for a few months. That if I let myself slip up any more, my life was in danger from my very subconscious, Dustin. That's what I meant by gone." Brandi choked out, nearing sobs again.

Dustin gasped, lost for words. "Oh, Mom, no . . ."

Brandi sank down onto the bed, sobbing uncontrollably. Dustin tried to console her by holding her and stroking her hair, but suddenly her face went blank and the tears stopped coming.

"Oh, honey, we mustn't wake Dustin," Brandi said in a flirtatious voice, grinning at Dustin.

"Oh, crap," Dustin muttered.

"What was that, hon?" Brandi murmured, stroking her son's free arm.

"N-Nothing. . . ." Dustin said, trying to break free.

Brandi smiled and pecked him on the cheek. Dustin broke away, grimacing, and ran out of the room, into his own. Locking the door behind him, he saw a sleepy Beau sitting on the edge of his bed.

"Whazzamatter?" he asked, yawning as Dustin threw on some jeans.

Dustin's heart was hammering. Glancing blankly at Beau, he said, "Just get dressed, we gotta get Mom to see Dr. Burb right away."

Beau didn't ask questions, a perk of his. He just grabbed his brown t-shirt and a pair of jeans from the wardrobe, dressing quickly as Dustin tugged on his Pleasantview High jersey.

"Oh, Skiiiiiiip. . . ." Brandi sing-songed from her room.

"See what I mean?" Dustin asked his brother, who was now pulling a comb through his hair.

"Yeah. Mom's not right and now we're off to see the Wizard," Beau replied, no humor in his voice.

"Exactly."

Running out into the bathroom, Dustin grabbed the sleeping pills out from the cabinet and poured a glass of water for his mother, adding the medication.

Trying his best to pretend his mom was Angela, he said, "Sweetheart, drink this. You look parched."

She took the glass, drinking it without tasting it. Handing it back to him, he slipped his arm around her and helped her up. Placing the glass on an end table, he said, "How about we go somewhere else? The park, maybe? Or the motel? Get a nanny for Dusty? Let's make today about us, baby."

"Whatever you say, hon," she said, her words slurring a bit.

Helping her to the car, he put her in the back seat and fastened her seat belt, the one without duct tape. He didn't want her breaking free.

Locking her door and going back to get Noah and Beau, he found Noah sleeping in Beau's arms, which were sagging under the heavy toddler's weight.

"What did you do to him?" Dustin asked in a tone that was disapproving but at the same time curious to know.

"I had to, Dustin, you gotta understand. He was crying for Mom so I gave him a bottle with a sleeping pill in it. I didn't know what else to do," he said, tearing up at Dustin's hard face.

Taking the drugged toddler, he glared at Beau. "Look, kiddo, I'm not mad at you. It's just that I gave mom pills because she was an adult. Little kids aren't meant to take these. They get sick."

"I'm sorry!" Beau pleaded.

Dustin rolled his eyes. "Just don't do it again. This is your little bro we're taking about here. We don't need this to become a story on Thanksgiving, how Beau drugged Noah that one day when Mom went crazy," Dustin said, a lump forming in his throat.

_If there's a Thanksgiving, _he thought darkly, marching to the car.

***

"Don't tell your friends at school I did this, okay?" Dustin said, backing out of the driveway.

Beau bit his lip. He could sense the stress in Dustin's voice, and didn't even yelp as he knocked over a garbage can.

Brandi was sleeping soundly in the back seat beside Noah, who was in his carseat, breathing shallow. The hospital was at the top of the hill by the Bella Goth bridge, so Dustin gunned the engine in the general direction of the highway, the mobile home fading in the rearview mirrors.

The bottle of pills and Brandi's purse sat in between them like an ominous reminder of the duty they had ahead. Dustin chuckled darkly, breaking the silence.

_We're off to see the Wizard, all right, _he thought, shaking his head. Hoping that nobody saw who was driving, he passed the high school, slowing down because there was a crossing guard with a grim look fifty metres down the road. He saw Angela and Lilith, scrapping it out again on the front steps, and Dirk, getting out of his dad's van, who turned and stared as he saw the recognizable car pass by.

Motioning for Dirk, he pulled off to the side of the road. Dirk ran up behind him, getting larger in the rear-view mirror.

"Dude, what the hell?" Dirk said as Dustin rolled down the window.

"Look, dude, I need you to tell the school I'm away, okay? Tell them there was an emergency or something," Dustin said, pleading with his friend.

"No way, man. Something's up and I'm not down with it," Dirk said, looking around. "And why the hell are you driving? You're fourteen, man. Happy birthday. But that doesn't mean you can burn rubber, okay? I saw you coming up the street, well, everybody did. I just want you to live, dude. Now get out of the car and let your mom drive."

Dustin shook his head. "Dirk, it's a bit more complicated than that. Just tell the office I'm gonna be gone for a while, okay? I can't explain, I don't need Social Services on my ass again. Just make something up."

Dirk bit his lip, his eyes darting back to the school.

"C'mon, man, take one for the team," Dustin said, running his hand through his untidy hair.

Dirk sighed. "Fine, man, but you owe me an explanation after everything goes down. And if you kill yourself before it gets to that, well, don't expect me to cry at your funeral." He patted the roof of the car twice and lumbered off, shaking his head and swearing to himself.

Pulling off the shoulder, Dustin sighed. Phase one, complete. Beau just looked forlornly out the window as they climbed the hill, down at Pleasantview.

"I wanna go home," he said as Dustin rounded a corner, skidding a bit.

"Yeah, me too, buddy, me too. But right now, we're off to see Mr. Burb at the hospital, okay?" Dustin said, glancing at the mirrors like he had seen Brandi do before.

The ten-year-old groaned, kicking the bottom of the seat. Dustin could see that the day was already taking it's toll on the kid, making him slump in his seat.

Pulling cautiously into a free parking spot, he put the pill bottle in Beau's hand. "Give one of these to Mom if she wakes up. Tell her it's candy. Don't let her see the bottle or try to get out of the car, even if she's really Mom again."

Beau nodded, and Dustin locked all the doors before leaving the car, punching Beau playfully in the arm. "Be safe, kiddo."

Beau gave him a grim look as he slammed the car door, the keys jingling loudly in his grasp. Suddenly Dustin realized that his hand was shaking, and he closed it around the keys, clenching his teeth and opening the door.

The building was called the hospital only because it had a maternity ward and a surgical room in it, plus a brain scan machine and a pharmacy. It was really only a long, narrow brick building with sickly green walls and a flat roof sagged inwards from years of heavy snow packs. But Dustin, never having been in here before, smelled sickness with every step he took, and felt vomit rise in his throat.

Bending over a garbage can, he coughed up his dinner from last night into the black abyss. Suddenly he felt a tap on his shoulder and saw Dr. Burb standing there, clipboard in hand. Wiping his mouth, Dustin turned around.

"She's doing it again, isn't she?" he asked, his brown eyes searching.

Dustin nodded weakly. "She's out cold. I gave her some sleeping pills so she wouldn't hurt herself."

John pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, shaking his head. "Let me see her."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two **

**The Three Musketeers**

As the duo marched out of the hospital foyer, Dustin tried to chew on the peppermint gum Dr. Burb had given him, but found that it was like cement in his dry, sour-tasting mouth. Spitting it out, he opened the back left door for the doctor, who was carrying his medical bag.

"How many pills did you give her?" Dr. Burb asked in disapproval, checking Brandi's vital signs.

Dustin scratched his head. The past few hours were a blur to him, everything smudged together. In an attempt at an educated guess, he said, "Four? Three? Something along those lines."

Dr. Burb glared at Dustin. He didn't have anything against the poverty-stricken teenager, but from the wild stories he had heard, he suspected it was along the lines of seven or eight.

Beau turned. "I - I gave Noah two. . . ." he said in a quiet voice, and Dr. Burb looked up.

"How old is your littlest brother again?"

Beau bit his lip, counting on his fingertips. Dustin sighed. "He's eleven months. He just learned how to walk last week."

Dr. Burb sighed, pinching his forehead again. "We need to get his stomach pumped immediately. A dosage like that is like a death sentence for a kid that age."

Dustin broke out into a sweat, looking at Beau. Tears were dripping down his face now, and he cast his gaze to the floor. "Do you mean he's gonna die, doc?" Dustin asked. He had always loved his brothers, even though he was always in trouble for loveless crimes, and this was one of those loving moments. John didn't reply.

Rounding the back of the car, Dustin got Noah out of his car seat and held him close, checking his pulse. It was very slow, just enough to keep him alive.

"Let's go," Dustin said, and the two ran into the hospital, leaving Beau with Brandi for the second time in ten minutes.

Rushing down the hall past the secretary, Dr. Burb opened the door to the emergency ward, which had only two beds. Glancing at the doctor, Dustin lowered Noah down onto the nearest bed. Kissing his forehead, he backed away. It seemed like life was in slo-mo, and Dustin was outside of it all, a fast-moving spectator.

"Don't let him die, doc."

Dr. Burb just looked at him.

But Dustin was already gone, to get his mother out of the car.

***

Waiting for Dr. Burb to finish with Noah seemed to take forever. Brandi was still sound asleep, dead weight on the bed beside her son's, and Beau was sleeping against Dustin's shoulder on the bench outside the room, muttering fitfully.

"It's all gonna be okay in the end, kiddo. If it's not okay, it's not the end," Dustin whispered, something he had heard his mother say from time to time when there wasn't enough food for tomorrow or the heat got cut off in the dead of winter.

Beau smiled in his sleep, starting to snore.

Sighing, Dustin looked around the corner through the open door, where Dr. Burb and Nurse Langreak were working over Noah's tiny body, giving him IV after IV of fluids to flush his system. In a town as small as Pleasantview, health care was nearly medieval. Nothing like the big hospitals had, just the basics flown in from the big hospital in Veronaville.

Suddenly Nurse Langreak walked out of the room, smiling at Dustin. "Your brother's gonna be okay, Mr. Broke."

Dustin sighed. "What about Mom?"

Kaylynn bit her lip, wishing suddenly that she had stuck with housecleaning. "Um, she's still under. Dr. Burb wants to talk to you in private about that, actually."

Dustin's eyes narrowed, but he got up anyways. Beau sniffled and shifted his posture, unaware of Dustin's leaving. Following Nurse Langreak into Dr. Burb's office, he sat down in one of the uncomfortable blue plastic chairs exactly like the ones he had at school, slouching.

"Wait here," was her parting note, and Dustin swore to himself as she shut the heavy green door behind her, shaking his head. He felt like today was never going to end.

Watching the clock, it was exactly five minutes and twelve seconds when that door opened again, with a harried-looking Dr. Burb entering, clipboard in hand.

"Dustin, we need to talk," Dr. Burb said, sitting down at his heavy wooden desk.

"I've heard that one before," Dustin admitted, smirking a little. The relief was making him giddy.

Dr. Burb sighed. "Well, your mother isn't right, Dustin. She needs a bigger hospital than this. Like the one in Veronaville. But the thing is, we live in Washington State, and Veronaville is in New Hampshire. And nobody, especially you, can afford to airlift her there. So I'm asking you to come with me back to my house on Sim Lane, the big brick one beside the Goth Mansion, and stock up on supplies. I need you to drive her there, Dustin."

Dustin was suddenly sobered by those last few words, and by the helpless, pleading look in Dr. Burb's eyes. He knew the tale of how Jennifer Burb, his wife, had died because they didn't have the proper diagnostic equipment to catch her illness in time. He knew how Dr. Burb had founded this hospital in the hopes of treating others closer to home.

But now he was asking Dustin to take his family cross-country, without a license, to some far-away New England city in the slightest hope of getting her into the world-class psych ward there. That was different.

"You do realize I'm fourteen, right? I don't get my learner's for another two years."

Dr. Burb nodded. "I know. It's just that you're our only hope right now, Dustin. Nobody can do this for you. You can't let Beau drive you there, and especially not Brandi in her compromised state of mental health. We need you."

"No. I already have enough of a rap sheet, and you want me to get pulled over somewhere, I dunno, Riverblossom Hills, without a legit license and two terrified kids in the car? You know what they'll think, doc," Dustin replied, shaking his head.

Suddenly the doctor opened his top right drawer, tossing out a plastic card onto the desk. It had Dustin's picture, name, and description right, but his age was four years over what he was now. Picking it up, Dustin examined it and shook his head slowly from side to side.

"I had this made just in case. I can help you out if the cops call, say I'm your step-father," Dr. Burb said grimly. "It's from the real license place on Woodland Drive. I know people there, and they helped me out. Nobody can contest against it because it's real."

Dustin's eyes widened. Pickpocketing to buy his family dinner was one thing. But crossing state lines, even county lines, with a real fake license and no previous driving lessons was risky.

Suddenly Beau was standing in the doorway. "Do it, Dustin. Do it for Mom," he said, leveling a gaze at Dustin.

Dustin sighed, pocketing the license.

***

As they arrived at the Burb residence, with Noah and Beau squeezed into the back beside their mother, John shouting directions and Dustin behind the wheel, Dustin felt his heart jump into his throat.

_This is it,_ he thought, _I'm sacrificing my future to save my psycho mother on my birthday._

Shutting off the car and getting out, he popped the hatch and waited for Dr. Burb to get the boxes of supplies out of his carport. One box of mild sedatives for his mother, a case of water, a case of ramen noodle packets for the road, and another of baby food for Noah, plus 1,000 Simoleons for expenses such as gas and motels. Then they would go back home to pack some suitcases and lock up before hitting the road.

Dr. Burb came out with the first two boxes, shoving them in as far as he could. "Are you sure this thing will make it?" Dustin asked for the thousandth time, nervous for the journey ahead.

Dr. Burb looked the Minima over, nodding. "Yeah. It's been tuned up regularly, right?"

Dustin nodded. "I always got Mom take it to Don Lothario's condo every six weeks. I came with her, of course. I didn't need another little brother to deal with."

John chuckled. "He is something, isn't he?"

Dustin rolled his eyes. "Who? Don? I guess."

After everything was loaded, Dr. Burb slapped his debit card into Dustin's hand. "There's three thousand on there, but don't go over one thousand unless you have to. I have bills to pay."

Dustin nodded. He had never held so much money in his life, even if it was on a plastic card.

Shutting the hatch and getting in, Dustin started up the car. He felt his heart sink as the waving doctor faded in the rear view mirror, his face grim.

"Dustin?" Beau asked fifteen seconds later.

"Yeah?"

"Why doesn't Dr. Burb just drive us there?" Beau asked, wide-eyed.

Dustin sighed. "Because Dr. Burb has his daughter to take car of, Beau. Lucy, remember?"

Beau nodded solemnly. "Then why can't I stay with them? I don't wanna leave!"

"Same reason. Dr. Burb is a busy man and he's helped us out as far as he can. Now it's up to us, the three musketeers, to save the damsel in distress," Dustin said.

Beau smiled despite himself. "Right."

As they pulled into the driveway, Dustin felt like his house was about to be torn down, it was that deep a feeling. He just wanted to change back into his boxers and go to bed again in his old, musty purple room with his snoring brother in the bed across from his.

But instead, as he opened the door, he felt a sudden strange sense of cold detachment. He was in mission mode now, and there was no going back.

Tugging the suitcases out from under his mother's bed, he put his cell phone on the pillow and flipped the two green suitcases open. Taking a few of his mother's things, a pack of diapers for Noah, Beau's asthma inhaler and some bathroom things like toothbrushes with him in one, he zipped it up and set it on the ground. In the other he got Noah's, Beau's and his own clothes, plus Noah's teddy bear, his own wallet and Beau's Game Boy Color. Then he unplugged the coffee maker, flipped the breakers on all the lights and watered each of the plants until they drowned before leaving.

Beau had climbed into the shotgun seat, leaving Brandi to sleep beside Noah. Using the empty space in the back seat between the two as storage, Dustin loaded the suitcases there and got in, pulling out again. Then he suddenly stopped the car, realising that he had forgotten something important.

Running back inside, he lunged for his cell phone and the chargers, pocketing them before racing back outside to the car. Huffing and puffing, he put the car in reverse and backed out onto the road, not saying a word in his brother's direction.

It was already 4:00 by then, but the sun was still high in the sky and the bridge was still open for another two hours, so he gunned it for that specific road. Passing the now-empty high school and then the hospital at sixty, he made it to the bridge in just under twenty minutes. Beau was clinging to his seat as the four-banger galloped along the newly paved road, and then they were on the bridge.

Trying his best to not go over the edge, Dustin switched lanes and tried not to cross the meridian. He must've looked like a drunk driver, swerving like he was, but he was tired and their next stop, Desiderata Valley, was two hours away.

"Slow down!" Beau shrieked as he passed a Smord doing just under forty, but Dustin gunned it anyways. The gas tank was full, but his head was empty of thoughts as he focused on the exit to the Highway of Dreams.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

**Curiosity Killed The Cat, But This One Still Had Eight Lives To Live**

Passing through the small town of Bluewater Village, Dustin felt his heart leap into his throat. Dead ahead was a roadblock, complete with officers in uniform and enough squad cars to jail an army.

"Oh, crap," Dustin muttered, fumbling for his license. Smoothing back his hair, he tried to make his voice sound more even as he rolled up to the routine roadblock.

Rolling his window down, he prayed that the officers wouldn't ask questions as to why he was driving and not his mother. He was never good at acting, and, with a suspicious officer looking his way, he was tempted to gun it for the county line just ahead.

"License and registration, please," the officer said in a bored voice, and Dustin handed over the plastic card, trying to look like he'd done this before. The officer scanned it with a machine and it beeped. Suddenly Dustin's blood ran cold and he felt his cheeks burn with guilt, but the officer just handed it back to him. "Drive safe, kiddo."

"Have a nice night, officer," Dustin said, pulling away. Suddenly he let out a breath he hadn't known he had held, and smiled at Beau. "Dr. Burb was right! It is real!"

Beau gave him a thumbs-up, and they pulled into the nearest parking lot, one of the town's Simway Food & Drug Store. Dustin got out to stretch and check on Noah, but Beau just sighed and rolled down his window to breathe in the cool night air. He looked parched.

Dustin popped the hatch, grabbing a water for Beau and a packet of instant ramen for himself. Tossing Beau the water over Noah's head, he crushed the packet in his hand and popped it open, munching on the dry noodles. He hadn't eaten in hours, well, nobody had. Looking around, he saw a twenty under the wheel of a shopping cart, just waiting to be spent.

"Happy birthday to me," Dustin muttered, sidling over to the carts and slipping his hand under the wheel to grab the twenty. Pocketing it, he decided to treat Beau and himself to a sandwich from the deli and maybe a root beer.

Going back to the car, he saw that Noah had awoken at last, and was in a mood as cheery as ever despite the heavy air. He banged his tiny fists against the carseat, giggling.

"Hey, I just found a twenty on the ground, so I'm going to get us some decent food, alright? Then we can find a motel with a crib for Noah and crash for the night," Dustin suggested, looking at Beau.

Beau nodded, sipping his water. He looked tired, but equally content with the circumstances, so Dustin locked the doors and went inside.

Suddenly he remembered something: Angela. He hadn't told his girlfriend anything about his disappearance, so he took out his cell phone and dialed Angela's home number.

It rang twice before she picked up, voice concerned. "Dustin, where the hell are you? I'm really concerned that you missed school today. You can't just do that, even on your birthday! I looked like an idiot carrying your present around all day! And why were you driving your mom's Minima? Tell me everything."

Dustin sighed. "Angie, baby, let me explain. Today was really screwed up for me, okay? It started with. . . ."

***

Dustin walked out of the store with two sandwiches, two root beers and a candy bar, his driver's license burning a hole in his pocket. He shouldn't have told Angela, her mother was a politician and they could have a warrant out for him by now. She had reacted, naturally, with concern, and had asked him to come home. But he couldn't, and had ended up hanging up on her.

Shaking his head, he returned to the car and got in, splitting everything between them equally. Nobody said a word; the only sound was Noah's raucous giggles.

Then, with a hitching cough, Brandi woke up, blinking at the scene. "Dustin? Beau? What the - oh. no. . . ."

Dustin just looked at her soberly as she cried, swallowing his clump of sandwich too hard. "Mom, look, I know this is overwhelming for you, but I've got it all under control. We're going to see someone that can help you. We're all fine, I just sedated you to keep you under control, okay? John Burb helped me out."

Brandi just sniffled, looking out the window. "That stupid tattle-tale, always getting in our way. One moment he's my friend and the next he's off telling everybody our business."

Beau gave Dustin a look that said, "Why me?" and "Oh, crap," in one. Dustin was too confused to notice, however.

"Why does he do that, honey?" Dustin asked, taking a sip of root beer. Curiosity killed the cat, but this cat still had eight lives to live.

Brandi sighed. "Because he wants me back. He was the one who broke up with me in junior year, and he regrets that decision. So he tells gossip about you behind our backs to pressure me to leave you and go back to him!"

"You'll never leave me, honey. We'll grow old together and watch our grandchildren play on the lawn of our estate one day," he said, turning and taking her hand.

Brandi looked up. "Skip, there's something I have to tell you."

Dustin blinked. "What, honey? What is it? Is it about Dusty? Or Beau, maybe?"

"No, honey. I've been seeing someone else, and now I'm . . . I'm pregnant."

Dustin and Beau both gasped, looking at Noah. His innocent green eyes looked up at them, unknowing.

"Who? I'm not mad, honey. Just tell me who."

Brandi bit her lip. "Don Lothario. The guy with the condo."

Dustin suddenly got out of the car, slamming his fist against the roof. Opening the hatch, he tore open the box of sedatives, and a syringe. Then, rounding to his mother's side, he yanked open the door and stabbed the needle into her. She was out within ten seconds, and Noah had started to cry, not liking what he was seeing.

He had known that his mom had lost a baby girl before Noah, but he had always thought that Noah was his father's doing. But instead it was a town's Cassanova, Don Lothario, who cringed away from any commitment and had more girlfriends than hairs on his head.

So his brother had had a father for all that time, and nobody knew it. He had had to suffer with them, with no father figure at all, and now, in his mother's darkest hour, Dustin had found out the truth. The worthless hide of Don Nicolo Lothario was the father of his youngest sibling.

***

Pulling into the motel parking lot, Dustin's head was spinning, and Beau was staring at the floor. He hadn't spoken a word since they whipped out of the Simway parking lot, and it was worrying Dustin.

"Hey, you okay? It's not like it's the end of the world or anything, kiddo," Dustin said, patting him on the shoulder.

_Oh, but it is,_ Dustin thought, _the end of my world._

"Leave me alone," Beau yelled, recoiling from Dustin's touch. Dustin blinked, astonished.

Sighing with annoyance, Beau got out of the car and with deliberance slammed the door just hard enough to shake the car. Breaking into a sprint, the tears in his eyes spilled over and ran down his cheeks like hot acid.

"Hey!" Dustin yelled, eyes narrowing. Leaping out behind him, Dustin ran up behind Beau, grabbing his wrist and turning his brother around to face him.

Beau tugged at his iron grip, eyes blazing. "Nothing's the same anymore, Dustin! I just wanted to have a normal day and now look what you've gone and done to us! We're in a city we've never been to and now I know I only have one real brother! We could've just called an ambulance on Mom and gone on with our lives, but no! I was conned the same as you, but at least you knew what you were getting in to! I didn't know Mom was that bad!"

Dustin recoiled. "Beau, please, just calm down!"

"Screw you!"

He saw the slap hit Beau's face before he thought about what he had done, and as soon as he had, Dustin regretted it. "No. . . ."

Beau broke free, running down the street away from him. He couldn't get far in five minutes, Dustin knew, so he let his brother go. He planned to follow him with four wheels instead.

Kicking the asphalt with every step, Dustin returned to the car, getting in. Reaching for the ignition, he grabbed air instead. Looking, he realized that the keys were gone from the ignition.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

**Down The Yellow Brick Road . . . Without Mom's Medication**

Dustin scrambled into the backseat, his hands sweeping the floor for any sign of the keys. Then, from behind him, he heard a gagging noise and a scuffling sound, coupled with a laugh and the jingle of car keys.

"Beau?" Dustin whipped around, standing up again. But instead of his brother, there were two rough-looking thugs, one with Beau in a headlock, the other holding the keys tauntingly just out of his brother's reach.

"Looks like the kid really needs those keys for something, ya think?" The one with Beau said, his long hair falling in his eyes. He spat on the ground at Dustin's feet when he didn't reply. "I said - oof!"

Dustin swung an uppercut his way, making the thug tumble down with Beau beside him. The other one grabbed Dustin by the front of his shirt, holding him just above the ground. Dustin made a gagging noise and struggled to get free, his hands prying uselessly at the thug's grip.

Getting up, the other thug rubbed his chin, smiling. Beau was still in his grip, face turning blue. "Some uppercut you have there, punk. You on the wrestling team? Kickboxing? Hey, how 'bout we make a trade? All those meds for the keys and the kid."

Dustin growled, clawing now. "Those are for my mom," he choked out, kicking at the air.

"Boo-hoo. Life isn't fair, kid. Now you either give us the box of meds and get the hell out of here, or the kid gets it right here with my little buddy called Slasher," the one with the keys said, pointing at his neck. Then he took a curved cuthroat sword out from his belt and tossed it to his partner, who held it to Beau's neck.

Dustin sighed with defeat, stopping his struggle. "Put me down and you can have 'em."

The thug dropped Dustin, and he walked over the the hatch and popped it open, handing them the open box of sedatives. Chuckling to themselves, the two thugs dropped

Beau and tossed Dustin the car keys, running off.

Panting, Beau got up and brushed himself off. Then, without hesitation, he lunged at Dustin and started sobbing into his shirt, his arms locked around his older brother's waist.

Patting Beau's blonde head, Dustin tried to console Beau, who was now shaking like a leaf and white as a ghost. "Look, kiddo, it's okay. I wouldn't have let them hurt ya, really now. We'll find another motel in another city, in a more well-lit area. Then we can rest, okay?"

Beau nodded, and Dustin lifted him up by the waist and put him in the passenger's seat, buckling him in like a small child. Beau just stared out the window, his gaze distant, as Dustin rounded the car and got in. Then his cell phone rang.

**From: Crumplebottom Mobile # 555-308-5055 - "Angela Coral Pleasant" **

**To: SimTel # 555-241-4354 - "Dustin Richard Broke"**

**Subject: Urgent News!!!**

**hi love, its angie. wanted to let u kno im not mad bout last nite, i knew u were upset + i want u 2 know that my mom was eavesdropping on our convo last nite + she called the police on ur mom for being a psycho. i didnt know she could do that but she did so if u see a cop car drive faster!!! they are after ur mom!!! love, angie.**

**l Reply l Delete l Save This Message l**

Dustin swore to himself and Beau winced, but stayed silent. Pushing the 'Reply' button, Dustin punched in a quick reply.

**From: SimTel # 555-241-4354 - "Dustin Richard Broke"**

**To: Crumplebottom Mobile # 555-308-5055 - "Angela Coral Pleasant"**

**Subject: RE: Urgent News!!!**

**hey angie, thanks 4 the tip. will look out 4 the coppers. not like i already am but thanks a lot. keep an eye on things 4 me love cuz i wont be back 4 a whole lot longer. kisses, dustin.**

**l Send l Save as Draft l Exit l**

Sending it, Dustin snapped his phone shut and slumped in his seat, looking back at his unconscious mother. Then he jammed the key in the ignition and started the car, which shuddered to life like the frail old machine it was.

Gunning it out of the parking lot, Dustin was glad to be on the road again, safe and sound.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Sorry for the long delay, I had writer's block for the longest while. Will update more, I promise you guys! - MJ**

**Chapter Five: This One Wasn't In the Rulebooks**

Dustin remained in a state of evanescent thought for the two-hour drive to Simattle, dubbed simply Downtown by the general population. Beau just slept, his face bruised on one side, head against the cold glass as farmland whipped by.

The winding dirt road was the only alternative to the Interstate, which was jam-packed with people heading to either the big Mimi Landgraab concert or the playoffs between the Sim State Llamas and the La Fiesta Martians. Preferring not to be stuck in a traffic jam the length of the highway itself, Dustin had plotted his route carefully, using both the map and the GPS on his cell phone. So far, they were one hour forty-five minutes into the trip, leaving Dustin fifteen minutes until he had to find a motel.

Oh, how he longed for his own bed.

"Hurry up, you stupid motorized deathtrap!" Dustin said, slamming on the accelerator. The silence was eerie and Dustin had the feeling that something was about to go wrong - again.

Averting a collision with a pothole, Dustin happened to glance at the fuel gauge. It was half a millimeter above the E, which was barely enough to get them past the next farmhouse. Swearing, he stopped the car and jumped out, remembering this time to take the keys with him. This wasn't necessary, though, as the road was dead quiet except for the sound of his breathing.

And his tears.

He didn't realize it at first, but he was sobbing, his mind raw from the shock of it all. What was wrong with him? He'd dealt with thugs before!

Then he realized what was different about this situation: his family was involved. Never before had he dealt with the pain of four people at once, and never before had this all made such sense to him. Everything was suddenly monochrome, clean-cut and cold as snow-covered steel.

Shivering, Dustin longed for a jacket to pull around him, his knees knocking together with cold. His cell phone rang, but as he reached to answer it, the metal slipped through his hands to the dirt below, the battery clicking off from shock. Oh, how he needed a jacket. It must have been about 28 degrees, not counting the wind that was picking up.

As he collapsed in the dirt, huddling from the cold, his tears became each a shard of his soul coming undone, falling into the darkness, out of reach forevermore.

***

Dr. Burb paced the floor of his home office, brow furrowed. He had his open palmtop in one hand and a plastic stylus in the other, but he ignored these, for they were irrelevant.

He had tried to contact Dustin, tell him that he had a cure, that it was all okay, but there was no answer. Sighing, he put the items aside and pinched his brow, glasses sliding down his nose. But as he looked up, instead of seeing the open door, John saw the silhouetted shapes of Don Lothario and Mary-Sue Pleasant, one holding a large gun with a silencer on the end, the other holding a can of gasoline and a large camping lighter.

"What - What's going on?" Dr. Burb stammered, backing into the windowsill.

Mary-Sue laughed. "It's time we put an end to this town once and for all."

Dr. Burb shook his head, uncomprehending. "What do you mean, end this town?"

This time it was Don who spoke. "This town was founded on lies. Lies that we were all perfect citizens, all innocent people looking for a quiet, idyllic little town to found our dreams on. But the entire of Pleasantview is scum. And it all started with you letting a criminal take my son on a suicide mission."

John shook his head, deciding to deal with the larger matter at hand rather than a petty custody dispute. "I had no other choice! It was that, or Brandi would've ended up dead."

Don smiled. "She's dead either way. But you've put the life of my only heir in jeopardy. You've turned this entire town upside-down with the simple notion that somehow that hospital in Veronaville will fix Brandi. But it won't. So why not end it all, put out the flame, before the crashing end? This town will go off the maps for good, a scar on the face of the planet Earth gone up in smoke. Don't you think that it would be better, Doc? To just put an end to the madness of the horribly misnamed Pleasantview?" Then Don smiled, quoting a famous obscure poet from long ago. "To each a fate decided at the hands of the ones dealt it."

Dr. Burb was hyperventilating now, lost for words. So these two were going to kill off the entire town just to avoid a disaster? It was absurd . . . but extremely logical. Suddenly John felt tempted to join their ranks. Save the world as they knew it by destroying it. Start again. But he was a doctor of life, not death, and John knew that no matter what, he had to protect the citizens from this. Even if it meant looking down the barrel of that horrible gun.

"No!" John said, grabbing a paperweight off of his desk and hurling it at the duo. Then, leaning back, he hurled himself out the window like a scuba diver off of a boat, tumbling two stories to the ground below. Picking himself up, he heard gunfire upstairs, and then saw Lucy jumping off of the front balcony, crumpling on impact with the hard walkway. There was no time to decide, but John found himself thinking about leaving his daughter to warn the town. This one wasn't in the rulebooks.

***

**MEANWHILE . . .**

Angela struggled to maintain consciousness as Daniel shoved her in the closet under the stairs, her head slamming into the coat hooks with such force that she saw stars. Lilith was already in there, bound in some frayed yellow rope like her twin, her green eyes narrowed in fury. Nobody overpowered the Queen of Darkness.

As the door slammed shut in their faces, Angela started to cry. She knew screaming was no good, so she just slumped to the floor of the closet, incoherent sentences tumbling out of her quivering lips. The stench of gasoline filled the air as Daniel spread it over the floor, preparing to set the fluid alight.

Lilith, however, was fumbling for her pocketknife. But, to her dismay, she found that it was in the pocket she couldn't reach, and with Angela too jazzed up on sorrow, she was left with nothing, helpless.

And she hated it.

She could hear a car go by, music thumping hypnotically, too far away to hear her. Swearing, she kicked the door with her boot.

And it sprang open.

Eyes narrowing, Daniel dropped the mop he was holding and went to go close the door, cussing at her.

But just as the hinges started to move, a spark formed, and the entire Pleasant residence exploded into the night.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: This chapter was inspired by two things: Deep Storm by Lincoln Child (arguably the best thriller I have read by far) and the songs The Mission by 30 Seconds to Mars, In The End by Linkin Park, Numb by Linkin Park, and Falling On by Finger Eleven. I reccomend you listen to those songs as you read, as it really sets the tone. Oh, and for those who don't know who Aurora Dreamer is, she's the daughter of Cassandra Goth and Darren Dreamer. (I just didn't like the whole Cass/Don scenario, so I gave Darren his wish.)**

**Chapter Six: Mission Impossible Was Nothing Compared To This**

Dustin heard Beau's door slam, and he saw his brother's light-up sneakers approaching, but he didn't compute any of it. He didn't think at all as his brother knelt down and picked him up, letting him lean against Beau as he stared off into infinity.

Beau shouldn't have been the one holding his brother. It should have been the other way around, but right now Dustin didn't care. He had failed. It was over. His cell was dead, his car was out of gas, and his sanity had just slipped through his hands like sand.

"Beau?" Dustin said, looking brokenly at his brother.

Beau made eye contact and nodded for him to go on.

"How are we gonna get to Veronaville now?" Dustin asked, letting the words slip through his frozen lips. It wasn't exactly how he meant to phrase it, but the words were out anyways.

Beau teared up, a brave expression on his face. "We'll walk."

Dustin gave Beau such a look as to say, "What did those thugs give you!?"

Beau stood up. "No! I'm serious, Dustin. I'll carry Noah, and we can wake up Mom. She can walk, no matter what, and if she does anything crazy you can just carry her over your shoulder or something. It's not like she's going to murder anybody, right? We can get more supplies there with Dr. Burb's money, rest up, and get a plane or hitchhike or something!"

Dustin narrowed his eyes. Why hadn't it been the obvious solution before? He nodded before he could think anymore about the matter. Getting up, he brushed off his cell phone and pocketed it, feeling not whole, but human enough to continue. Like a shell without an occupant.

Popping the hatch, he reached over the seat and grabbed the suitcases and put them on the ground. Then he closed the hatch and rounded the car to Noah's side, opening the door and unbuckling him. He didn't wake up, only muttering as Dustin handed him to Beau. Beau grunted under the excess weight, but didn't drop his brother.

Then, leaning over the carseat, Dustin took out his lighter. Gesturing for Beau to look away, he picked up his mother's hand and flicked it, giving her fingertips one pass with the bluish flame. Suddenly Brandi's eyes shot open and she screamed, whipping her hand away from her son's.

"Dustin Richard Broke, what -"

Dustin just grabbed a water bottle and poured it over her singed flesh, face grim. "Sorry, but we need you alert."

Brandi just shook her head. "Where am I?"

"Good question. Fifteen minutes away from Simattle, by car. But right now, it's forty-five by foot, so we have to hoof it."

Brandi looked confused. "Simattle? How - oh, no . . . what did I say?"

"Does the name Don ring a bell anywhere on the family tree?"

Brandi leaned back in her seat. "I didn't . . . I didn't want you to find out . . ."

"Why?" This time it was Beau who spoke, giving his mother a rock-hard stare. "We could've had a dad again, and we wouldn't be doing this. We could've had money and nice things like shoes that fit and maybe more than four TV channels! None of this would've happened!"

Brandi just sighed, shook her head, and started to cry.

***

Angela screamed as the intense heat hit her, ripping away most of their shelter. She felt like they were in the middle of falling, and when they finally hit the ground, she gave no thought to how she could have survived such a violent explosion. She just looked at her sister Lilith, who was unconscious and in need of an ambulance, and then at the half-melted cell phone in her pocket.

Dialing 9-1-1, the cell phone informed her that there wasn't enough signal in the closet to put her call through. Opening the door hesitantly, she stuck the cell phone out into the cool night air and realised that her entire house was now just a crater of smoking rubble.

As the call was put through, Angela saw something move out of the corner of her eye. Putting the cell up to her ear, she looked over and saw her father's scorched body roll down a pile of smouldering ash and turn into dust.

***

Dr. Burb crouched in the bushes, gunfire searing his eardrums. He saw his good friend Cassandra, Alexander, Dirk, Aurora and Darren come out onto the lawn in their pajamas, Alexander with a phone to his ear. Then, seeing what was going on, he handed the phone to his uncle and raced over to Lucy, jumping the fence.

"LUCY!!!" he screamed, skidding down onto his knees as he got to her motionless body.

"ALEXANDER, GET OVER -" John started to yell, but Alexander got the message. He picked Lucy up and ran full-speed over to John, who for the first time saw Lucy up close. The gunfire seemed to have stopped, probably because their attackers were out of ammunition, but they still had little time left.

Lucy's face was ruined, and her housecoat was riddled with bloody holes. Her hair fell around her face like a bloody halo, and her eyes fluttered open, her breaths coming in gasps.

"Alex . . . Daddy . . . " Lucy whispered, reaching for Alexander's face. He took her hand in his and ran it along his cheek. "I. . . love you . . . both . .. ."

Her hand went limp, and Alexander released it, letting it fall. Placing his fingers on Lucy's neck, he felt nothing. Shaking his head, he moved them farther up, and then John tried, his tears falling onto her broken body. Both just felt the cold grip of death shroud their hiding place carrying the faded remants of the heat her body once held.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thanks to the10thcullen for all her great reviews. They really help out a lot in the wanting-to-write-another-chapter department. Also, this chapter was inspired by I Will Not Bow By Breaking Benjamin.**

**Chapter Seven: Aftershock**

**ONE HOUR LATER . . . **

Dustin sat down in the flimsy patio chair, putting his head in his hands. He was out of breath, out of hope, and out of luck. It seemed like his entire life was over, gone in the blink of an eye.

He had charged his cell phone enough to put a call through to Angela, who had had to hoof her sister up the hill in a red wagon she had found in the Langerak-Rodriguez household's front yard and was now at the hospital, in the same spot Dustin was before.

She had told him everything, about how her mother had left the house with a gun in her belt and a gas can in her left hand, and how her father had tried to blow their house up but ended up just killing himself. She told Dustin how Dr. Burb had sounded the alarm to get everyone out of town before Don triggered the mass explosion, and how she saw everything go up in one huge bang. She said it was complete chaos.

She explained how Lucy was there, too, and how she was trying to get revived. He could hear Alexander's wailing in the background. He and Lucy had been in love since the sixth grade, so Dustin paid him his respect by not talking too loud and letting him mourn in peace.

"Everyone else who survived is at the high school. The local radio station's down, so runners from the high school are keeping us up to date, and they're sending out teams to search the houses for survivors. I just can't believe this is happening, Dusty . . ."

"I'm coming home right now, and I'm going to get help while I'm at it," Dustin said. "Can you run down to the town hall and get a head count for everyone there?"

"Yeah," Angela said. Then, more muffled, "Dr. Burb, Dustin's coming home. He's gonna get us all out of here. No, no, I don't know. I have to do a head count first. Keep Lilith safe, okay?"

Dustin sighed. "Angie, when you get the official head count, call me back. I have a plan."

He then flipped the phone closed, wondering if he could ever carry through with what he had in mind.

***

Angela ran down the hall and out the doors, into the morning light. Dawn had just broke, but she felt like her entire world was in darkness. The heat was stifling still, so instead of rushing to the high school right away, she paused on the side of the road, sitting in the singed grass. Kicking off her charred flip-flops, she remembered . . .

_"Hang on, Lil, I'm getting you out of here," Angela muttered, picking up her sister. She groaned and for once didn't glare at her sister, but instead started to cry._

_"Angie . . . it hurts . . ." she said in a raspy voice, choking on her own tears. _

_"I know, just hang in there . . ."_

_Stumbling through the rubble, she lifted her sister over her shoulder fireman-style, running along the sidewalk at full speed. It was a good thing she was on the track team, or else she would've been screwed big time._

_Suddenly a loud, shrieking alarm sounded in the distance, and everything blossomed into chaos. People ran out into the street, some in cars, other on foot, all in their pajamas. They knew this alarm well, and knew not to hesitate when it sounded. Amidst the chaos she saw her friends and neighbors, but she got no chance to tell anybody what was going on. _

_Suddenly she heard gunfire from the Burb's house. Looking back, she saw people scramble right and left as bullets riddled the masses, and, in her pause, she spotted what she needed._

_A small red Radio Flyer wagon, big enough for her sister, sitting in the abandoned house that belonged to the Langerak-Rodriguez clan. Not hesitating, she ran against the slowly dispersing crowd, towards her target. _

_"Stop right there, Angela Coral Pleasant," a voice said, and when she looked up, she saw the face of her mother._

_"Mom?!"_

_"This town is as good as gone, and if you so much as lay a finger on that wagon, I'll tell Don it's time," she said, smiling darkly as she held up a walkie-talkie and gestured to the Burb residence._

_"NO!" Punching her mother in the jaw, she grabbed he rmother's walkie-talkie from her hand and chucked it into the nearby hot tub. She then dropped Lilith into the wagon and started to run, one of the last ones out of town. _

_Half-way up the hill, she started to tire. Deciding it was a reasonably safe spot to take a five-minute break, she doubled over, panting like a dog. Suddenly she saw something terrifying: a chain of explosions, blossoming at the Burb and Trellis residences, then eating up everything in it's path. _

_Roads were ripped up, houses blew apart, and as she heard screams from those still on the hill, their town exploded into the night. _

_As the force of the explosion started to reach them, Angela's science teacher, Mr. Monroe, screamed, "HIT THE DECK!" _

_Simultaneously, everybody hit the pavement, some screaming, others silent in their order. The heat of it all hit a second later, and Angela's blood-matted hair was blown back, out of her face. _

_Then, in tears, she saw the explosion tear throught the housing complex of mobile homes that Dustin lived in._

Looking down at the charred town now, she saw nothing but a crater of black. It was like nothing ever existed there but death.

Continuing on, she sidestepped debris and whatnot, shaking her head at a melting doll somebody had left behind. Soon she reached the familiar red brick building, but as soon as she walked into the gymnasium she knew that nothing would ever be the same.

The bleachers were packed to the nines with the residents of Pleasantview, most huddled under grey blankets that some of her teachers were handing out. The injured that were waiting for a place in the hospital were laying in the centre of the room, and the light that filtered through the windows at the top of the bleachers put their injuries into light.

She spotted some of her fellow cheerleaders there. Rebecca Trellis, Maddie Langerak, and Monica Rodriguez were all sitting side-by-side, talking quietly to each other in the bleachers away from the others. With them were Jennifer Mullen, Mickey Chu and Harlow Brinks, from the basketball team.

Running up to them, she sat down. "You guys okay?"

Monica responded. "If you count terrorized, homeless, orphaned and overall hopeless as okay," she said. Angela noticed that she and Maddie were crying, so she supposed that the two stepsisters were the only survivors of their household.

"It's gonna be alright, I swear. Dustin's out of town right now, but he's coming back with help. I just need a head count. Do you know if they did one yet?" Angela asked, looking around.

"Dustin? Dustin _Broke?_ The poor kid who robbed the 7-Eleven on Main Street to pay the bills?" Maddie asked, a scornful look on her face.

"Yeah, that's him. Look, I don't have time to explain. Who did the head count?" Angela said, looking at each of her friends in turn as she nearly shouted the last sentence.

Mickey rolled her eyes. "Sweaty Stanley did one, I think," she said, using their nickname for the school's gym teacher, Mr. Stanley.

Angela nodded and sprinted down the bleachers, over to their gym teacher.

"How many people are here?" she asked without a greeting.

Mr. Stanley looked over at her. "Uhm, 427, I think. The entire of Pleasantview is here and accounted for except for those left behind or in the hospital.

Suddenly Angela's blood ran cold. Left behind?

The look in her eyes triggered Mr. Stanley's response. "Yes, we had to leave behind some who couldn't get out fast enough, or those who wouldn't leave their homes. It was mainly the elderly and the homebound, though, so -"

Angela interrupted him. "You mean that everyone over seventy is dead?"

Mr. Stanley nodded. "For the most part, yes. I'm very sorry, Angela, but they're gone."

"Do you know if Kaylynn Langerak and Jaime Rodriguez made it out?"

Mr. Stanley nodded. "They made it out, but . . ."

"But what?"

"But Jaime stepped on a land mine when he was crossing through a field. They, and everyone but two of their children, are dead."

"Land mines?!"

"You didn't hear? Take a look at the injured. Do those look like typical injuries to you?"

Angela just walked away, pushed open the heavy red fire door, and stepped into the cold aftershock of the explosion.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Sorry for taking so long, but I really couldn't think of a good plan that Dustin could carry out! But now I have, so here is chapter eight, inspired by Metric's long list of awesome songs, especially The Twist/Help I'm Alive/Monster Hospital!**

**Chapter Eight: The Dish That Was Named Revenge **

Dustin let his arms fall from the wheel as he approached a stoplight, refreshed from two hour's sleep and a case of Red Llama. The caffeine raged through him, making him stop just over the line. But he didn't care. Better off dead from a collision than dead from exhaustion.

He knew that a collision was the least thing he needed, though, so he sighed, took the wheel again, and tried to clear his mind.

"So we're going to send a bazillion people into the exploded remains of Pleasantview to search out the hiding place of the mayor and Don," Beau confirmed, looking skeptically at his older brother.

"Yup. Every last one of them that's able. Then, after they're caught -"

Beau interrupted him. "You're not gonna kill them, are you?" he asked, going pale.

Dustin shook his head. "Not right then. We're going to take them back to the high school."

"Why?"

"You'll see," Dustin grinned, flooring it with the satisfaction that came with the dish that was named revenge.

***

"Lucy, baby, speak to me!" Alexander said, listening to her every strained breath. They had managed to revive her just after Angela had left, her heart once again beating, if only skipping erratically. The only thing she wasn't doing right now in the least was consciously interacting, which Dr. Burb insisted would come with time.

"And what if she doesn't wake up? Are you going to just let her be a vegetable?" he had asked Dr. Burb only ten minutes ago.

"We'll do what is to be done, Alex. Even if it means letting her go," had been Dr. Burb's reply, which only deepened Alexander's fears that the breathing, the heartbeats, the muscle spasms, were only her shell, not both it and the occupant.

Now, as time wore on, Alexander caught himself many times thinking of her in past tense. It grated at his sanity, and he hated it. _She's still here, blockhead,_ he said to himself every time, and every time he felt himself wondering why.

Suddenly, he heard a click and a woo sound, and suddenly everything went black. The generators had worn out, and now Lucy had no monitors, no life support. Swearing, Alex turned to flick on the emergency lights, but they, too, were dead.

How was his Lucy going to ever live now?

In the bed beside hers, Lilith started to scream.

***

Angela Pleasant was on a mission.

She knew that her mother had survived the explosion, and so had Don. They wouldn't kill themselves, in case anything went wrong. No, Mary-Sue and Don had made it out, and she felt it was her duty to find them and destroy their worthless hides. She was never one for such violence, but today was different. Today was justice.

Looking back up at the high school, she saw the lights suddenly blink out. Obviously the generators had stopped. Tripping on a piece of debris, she went sprawling in the hot ash, soot covering her body in a black cloud.

But she never made it up.

Suddenly the ground opened up beneath her and she was falling, falling into what she presumed to be the remains of either a basement or a sewer line.

Falling for the second time that day, she hit not water nor rubble, but what she presumed to be a tumbling mat. After catching her breath, she realised that, yes, in fact, it was a tumbling mat, and no, she wasn't in a gymnasium.

She was in a bomb shelter.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: As for when Don says 'huamnforsaken', it's what I think is the Sim equivalent of 'godforsaken'. It just seemed right, y'know? I also used Yahoo! Babel Fish for all of the Italian that Don says, so if any of it looks funky, that's because I don't speak any Italian. Sorry that this chapter is so short, but this is all there really is to tell for this chapter! Also, I know that Dustin and Angela have a three-year age difference and that they are together, but I had to add in that extra twist on Angela's part to make sure this story didn't end early!  
**

**Chapter Nine: Don's Truth**

Angela got up, testing out her balance. Stumbling a bit, she looked up through the hole. The speck of light at the top looked miles away, and cold air washed over her face, numbing it.

"Hello?" she called out, looking around her. It was dark in here, but she was sure that it was indeed a bomb shelter from all the fading government warnings plastered on the concrete walls.

When nobody replied, she decided to continue down the hall, her noisy flip-flops the only sound besides her heartbeat.

". . . idiot! Were you too lazy to hoof it the two miles to the high school? Then nobody would have made it out alive, you stupid Italian!" Mary-Sue was yelling, and Angela stopped. She knew her mother's temper, and didn't want to be caught alive in her presence, especially when she was angry.

"What's it to you?" Don asked, and she heard a creak as if he were propping up his feet on something.

Mary-Sue sighed. "We didn't kill anybody worth the time, Donito! The entire plan was a complete failure!"

She heard Don growl, and then get up. "_Don' t lo denominate Donito, donna!_"

From the silence, she knew that Mary-Sue didn't understand him.

"Don't you call me Donito, woman!" he repeated in English, and from the next sentence, Angela inferred that she understood.

"I'm the leader here, and I'll call you anything I please!" Mary-Sue retorted, and then there was a sharp crack as she slapped him. Angela winced.

Don rounded the corner just then, swearing in Italian under his breath. Angela was in full view, and Don stopped and looked at her if he was seeing a ghost.

Then he did the unexpected.

"_Ora prossimo, tranquillamente,_" he whispered, grabbing her wrist.

Come now, quietly. Angela was suddenly thankful for choosing Italian over French for the past few years, and she nodded, understanding him.

Kicking off her flip-flops, she picked them up and started to follow him, and found herself being led into a large control room. There, she saw a large screen lit up with a map of Pleasantview, and a smaller one of the state. The state one was aglow with red lights, but Pleasantview's just had a big error notice on it, and was generally dark.

"What are we doing here?" she asked, but Don just shook his head and gestured to the chair.

"I have a lot of things I need to tell you before I can let you go, _tesoro_," he whispered, and began the tale of betrayal, lies and secrecy that would change Angela's perspective forever.

***

Angela's face crumpled as the story ended, and she blinked back tears. She had had no idea . . . no idea at all that little Noah was never a Broke at all, little Noah that she had babysat countless times for free because they didn't have enough money to pay her off . . . and that Don, his father, was denied ever seeing the tot for fear that somebody would see the resemblance. He hadn't even been able to give financial help because Brandi was too scared she would be labeled like the other women who had loved him. It was all about the _immagine_, she had said to him once. It was all about the image.

"But why would you destroy the town over two people, Mr. Lothario?" Angela asked, looking down at her hands.

Don sighed, a look of pure sorrow on his face. "Because everybody who Brandi told agreed with her. Keep it secret, keep the _cassanova_ away, raise him as if he were Skip's own son, not the son of that no-good Don Lothario," he replied. Tears streamed down his sun-darkened face, and he turned away, a sob escaping his lips. "I just wanted a chance, but this town, this humanforsaken place, disagreed . . . it was the only way I could make sure I saw my son grow! I knew that they were out of town, and I thought that this would be a perfect plan! But when I heard why . . . it ignited my anger to a boiling point! How _dare_ Johnathan Burb send out my son cross-country with an underage driver! I knew then that my son was a dead man, and that the doctor needed to pay the price! He deserves to die!" With those final words, Don broke into full bawling, a broken heart in a beautiful shell.

Angela got up and patted him on the back. She couldn't help but feel empathy for this man she barely knew, and whispered words of condolence in his ear as they cried in the darkness, two lost people in a world full of different directions.

She didn't see the kiss coming, but in that instant she knew that it was natural. As their lips locked, she didn't pull away like she usually would have, but leaned into it, breathing in the soft smell of breath mints. When they finally broke apart, she wasn't just some seventeen-year-old girl. She was a seventeen-year-old girl that had just fallen in love with somebody twice her age, and didn't give a crap at all.

***

Dustin got out of the car just after the bridge, and what he saw terrified him. A dark crater had been created where Pleasantview had been, and he found a sob rising up in his throat as his eyes traced the grooves that were once streets, parks, dwellings. The only things that survived were the high school and the hospital, and he feared that these too were not as structurally safe as they looked to be. Letting the tears fall, he let the images of devastation disappear behind a cloud of emotions . . .


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Yup, Angie's over to the dark side. Don't be fooled, she's on their side now! Oh, and WOOOOOO!!!! TENTH CHAPTER!!!! Ahem . . . yeah. *sweatdrop***

**Chapter Ten: Public Justice**

Dustin got back into the car and started it up, his mind spinning once again. He tried to ignore the devastation as he drove past the darkened windows of the hospital to the equally electricity-deprived high school. Pausing before he got out, he kissed sleeping Beau's forehead,thankful that he didn't have to see the destruction around them. Taking the TV camera that he borrowed from the Sims Broadcasting Network news studio earlier after he convinced them that Pleasantview was going to be blown into smithereens, he lugged it up the steps slowly, seeing as it weighed more than two of Noah.

As he opened the front door, he strained to hear voices, but found that the halls were deathly quiet. Like it was a mass funeral for the entire city.

"Anybody here?" Dustin called out, but with no reply, he continued to the gymnasium doors, pushing them open to find the entire of Pleasantview looking at him.

There was dead silence for a minute as they took the sight of him in, cradling the camera in his arms, his hair freshly gelled after a stay in the motel. Somebody started to clap, breaking the silence, and soon the clap became contagious as soon all that were able were clapping, cheering, and some even crying.

"He's come to save us!" he heard one teacher say to another, and they joined in the ruckus, adding their own chants to the masses.

"Dustin Broke! Dustin Broke! Dustin Broke!" They all cheered, and Dustin let the feeling of fulfillment wash over him as he shouldered the great black machine and powered it on. Now everybody in the world who was watching SBN would see them, and hear his name chanted through the dimly lit gymnasium.

As the lights flickered back on, he panned the crowd, and then the injured, some of whom were chanting too. For the first time in his life, he felt like his life had meaning, and as he handed the device to one of the teachers, he smiled, and it hurt after all the time he had spent frowning.

"My name is Dustin Richard Broke, and if you are watching this, you will see that almost all of my town is here behind me. We have suffered a terrible, unthinkable loss tonight, ladies and gentlemen, and that is of our humble little town called Pleasantview, in Washington State. All of our parks, community buildings, homes and most of all those who could not leave their homes are gone, all thanks to two vile people by the names of our mayor Mary-Sue Pleasant, and her assistant Don Lothario," he said, turning to the bleachers. "Does anybody have pictures of these two that I can show the viewers?"

Three people came down, Nina and Dina producing Polaroids of Don from their pockets, and Darren a wallet-sized snapshot of his political opponent. Dustin held them up to the camera lens and started to speak again. "If anybody sees these people, call 9-1-1 right away, or your local emergency number. DO NOT HESITATE. These people behind me depend on you, as viewers, to be vigilant. They may be out of the country right now, and we don't need to take a chance to let them slip by."

Giving the photos back, he continued. "We are going to organize a search with all who are able to canvass the area in cars, seeing as it is not safe on foot. Please do not call for help, as we already have enough people to do the job and the police would only hinder us at the moment. This has been a public broadcast from Pleasantview, Washington by Dustin Richard Broke. Have a nice afternoon."

Taking the camera back, Dustin shut it off and put it on the ground. He wouldn't need it for the next part of his plan.

"Does anybody have a microphone I could use?" Dustin asked, looking around. A teacher handed him a megaphone, which he thought would do the job. Flicking it on, he waited for the sound to level off in the room before speaking.

"Okay, hello, quiet down. I know what you are all thinking. When are we going to murder the bastards that destroyed our city? Well, I have an answer for you. We need to find them before we do anything, so I would like to everybody who is fourteen or older and willing to search for these terrorists to come down here right now. Every second counts, people, so hurry as best you can," he said, and to his surprise, before his sentence was even complete, he had dozens of people bounding down the bleacher's steps, lining up in front of him. Soon he had over one hundred people, and the only ones left were the older teachers, mothers with their smaller children, and a few of the lesser brave. All in all it was more than he needed, but he was thankful nonetheless.

Next he surveyed the lines. "When I say go, I want all of you to gather into groups of eight, with one driver each, that is, somebody who got here in a car. Go."

There was a great scramble and the noise escalated to a roar as people tried to find a group, but ten minutes later they were for the most part sorted out. After the silence consumed them once again, he raised the megaphone to his lips. "All of you follow me into Room 1-H."

Trekking out of the gym, he grabbed the camera and shouldered it again, but didn't power it on. Leading them through the maze of locker-bordered hallways, he opened the door to his old Geography classroom, gesturing for them to take a seat. Once they did, he grabbed a marker and started to draw a diagram on the whiteboard.

"This is the crater right here. I'm going to divide it into quadrants -" he said, drawing a grid over the lopsided circle, "- and label each grid according to your group's name. Is everybody in their groups?"

The search teams nodded, and Dustin continued. "Starting closest to the door, each group give yourself a name. Go."

"The Storm Troopers."

"The Lothario-Pleasant Loathers."

"We Must Survive."

"Supporters For The Fact That Mary-Sue Pleasant Must Die."

Dustin chuckled. "Okay, no. How about I just number you off?"

After that was over with, he numbered the quadrants 1-12. This was starting to look organized.

"I want all of you to copy this down. There are pens at the front, and paper, so come up one group at a time and take one each. After you are done, it's time for the final phase in the plan."


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Thanks a ton to all those who reviewed! My heart leaps when I see my inbox filled with reviews!**

**Chapter Eleven: Come to the Dark Side, We Have Your Twin Sister**

Lilith was panting now, sweat dripping into her eyes as she looked around. She couldn't see anything and was certain she was having one of her nightmares again.

"Am I in heaven?" she asked herself under her breath, but realised that heaven was supposed to be filled with light, not darkness. So where was she?

"No, the power just went out," somebody replied, and she recognised the velvety voice of Nurse Langerak, and a gentle hand coaxing her back down onto her back.

"Oh," Lilith blushed in the darkness, and suddenly the lights flickered back on, confirming the nurse's statement. But as soon as Kaylynn's hand slipped away, Lilth shot up again, getting out of the bed so fast Kaylynn thought she would hurt herself trying.

"Miss Pleasant, please get back here! You're injured!" she yelled, but it was too late. Lilith was making a break for it, and Kaylynn, exhausted, didn't even bother to chase after her charge. It had been a long day and the normal rules has already gone out the window anyways.

***

Lilith stumbled along through the street, barefoot and only wearing her hospital gown. She didn't even know where she was going, but she knew, maybe through twin telepathy, that something was horribly wrong on Angela's end.

"I will find you, Angela! And when I do, and you're okay, I'm going to give you the most painful, brain-damaging noogie that ever existed!" she said under her breath, looking around.

Suddenly, like only a handful of times in her nearly two decades, she flashed to Angela's mind, and saw what was going on.

She was hugging Don Lothario, and her vision was blurred. She saw Angela flash to her location, as if she knew what was going on, and Lilith knew where she was down to the precise pieces of rubble.

_Get a room, _Lilith thought, rolling her eyes.

_We're in a room, idiot, _Angela replied. _And tell Dustin we're through._

Then, as she flashed to the present, Lilith realised Angela was certainly _not_ okay.

***

As the teams revved up their cars and trucks, Dustin surveyed the scene with a cold eye. Beau had awoken, and so had Brandi, and they were locked in separate janitor's closets for now. Noah was snoozing in Dustin's arms, muttering sleepily that he wanted his crib.

"Dustin!" a girl shouted, and he looked up to see Lilith stumbling towards him in a hospital gown.

Dustin waved her over. "What's up?"

"You do realise that your girlfriend is currently making out with your brother's dad?" she said, ruffling Noah's hair.

"What?!"

"Yeah. Twin telepathy of whatever. Maybe I'm psychic, but I do know I mentally told them to get a room."

"And what did she say?"

"Uh, that she was already in a room. And that she wants nothing to do with you. Why?"

Dustin felt like he was punched in the gut. "Here, get Noah inside. I'm going with the teams."

Shoving Noah to Lilith, he jumped into the back of Mr. Tyrone's Jeep just as they were backing out, and called something to her.

"What?"

"I said, take care of Noah, alright?"

Lilith sighed. "Yeah, whatever!"

Just then the Jeep rolled over a land mine.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve: Buried Alive**

Angela suddenly felt a prickle in the back of her head and smoothed it out with her hand, only to realise that it wasn't the hair on the back of her neck that was irritating her.

"What was that?" Don said, looking up from loosening his tie.

Angela squinted her eyes and looked up at the ceiling. "I'm not sure . . ."

Don looked up too, and suddenly gasped, stumbling backwards. "We have to get out of here. Now."

A large crack in the ceiling was getting larger by the second, water seeping through the gap faster and faster. But all the two could do was stare as suddenly, rumbling far above them, the world literally came down on them.

***

FIVE MINUTES PREVIOUS . . .

Dustin was launched from the Jeep, landing on his back hard about twenty yards away. He felt like his hair had been seared away from his skull. Around him, he heard screaming and the screech of metal on metal, and he didn't doubt his luck as he realised that he was the only survivor.

"Dustin!" Lilith coughed, and he heard the padding of feet on dirt coming towards him.

Dustin sat up and checked himself. Everything was there, just a little singed. "Lilith? Oh, God, Lilith . . ." Suddenly he burst out into tears, and wrapped his arms around her and Noah.

Lilith pulled away. "I just can't believe you're alive . . ."

The two smiled for the first time in what seemed like decades. "I guess it was just the luck of the draw," the both said at the same time. Dustin chuckled.

Then, out of the blue, the ground started to shake underneath their feet and then the world seemed to sink. Vehicles toppled amongst the bystanders, and the high school collapsed in on itself, leaving a gaping hole of rubble where, just before, there had been the entire of Pleasantview.

Don and Mary-Sue had fulfilled their purpose.


	13. Epilogue

**Epilogue **

**Three Years Later**

Dustin awoke in a sweat of flurried realities, the ceiling seeming to spin as he instinctively sat up in bed. His vision seemed painted with a coat of red, and slowly his heartbeat died from his ears, and he looked around, the rain pounding in sheets on the roof of his tiny shotgun cottage.

He looked at the picture on his nightstand again, picking it up and smoothing the crumpled picture down into the handmade frame. It was the one taken after the Pleasantview Armageddon, of him on the steps of the White House with the President to the left, both beaming ear to ear as he accepted the medal. That day was full of falsities, but that didn't matter. As the mayor of New Pleasantview, it was his duty to deal with all the media that had flocked the now tiny camp of people, as well as the builders sent in from upstate and even British Columbia who had been given the task of building homes for the families left in the big blue tents.

Dropping the frame back onto the nightstand, he got up and opened the door, ignoring Beau and not-so-little Noah in the bigger bed. Shutting it behind him, he sat down on the plastic lawnchair, head in his hands.

It had been three years ago today that he had started his suicide mission.

Just as he looked over the sleeping mass of tents, he saw the sun break over the distant, unmarred hills, and he whispered a near-silent verse of "Happy Birthday" to himself, his eyes travelling over the town in its entirety.

"Looks like I'm not the only early birdie, am I right?"

Dustin looked up to see Lilith, her long red hair in its usual braid, mounting the steps to his cottage. She pulled up a chair and sat down, daringly close to her newfound friend.

"What are you doing up so early?" Dustin mused, cocking an eyebrow at her baggy pyjama shirt and Freezer Bunny pyjama pants.

Lilith lowered her gaze. "I wanted to make sure you weren't celebrating without me."

Dustin chuckled and put his arm around her. "Celebrating? That's for teenagers."

"You _are_ a teenager, Dustin."

"You know what I mean. I'm not the immature scoundrel I used to be, am I?"

Lilith smiled and looked back up at him. "I wouldn't say that."

Dustin got up and leaned against the banister. "I'm a mayor of a town ruined by politicians. Of course I have to be mature about things, even if I _am_ barely seventeen."

Lilith put her hand on his shoulder, squeezing it. "So I'm guessing you're too mature to go out with your dead ex-girlfriend's not-so-evil twin sister?"

Dustin smiled. "Depends. What's in it for me?"

"How about we start with you getting down on one knee."

***

Brandi placed her hand on the window of her hospital room, staring down at her son's little yellow cabin. She wondered if she would be allowed to see her son today. She wondered if she would finally run free for the first time in years.

She turned.

Dr. Burb was standing there, one hand against the doorframe, the other in the pocket of his green-blue scrubs. He beamed down at Brandi, and Brandi advanced, her bare feet making little to no sound on the white linoleum.

"John." Her simple address seemed to waken him from his statuesque stance, and he went over to her, wrapping her slender frame in a warm embrace.

John opened his mouth, but suddenly felt that words were insufficient in a moment such as this. Brandi nodded. "Sometimes you just have to do what you want to say."

Their kiss was the last thing that made a sound before they toppled onto the bed together.

***

". . . and do you, Alexander Mortimer Goth, take Lucy Jennifer Burb as your lawfully wedded wife."

"I do."

Lucy beamed at him, and then returned her gaze to the pastor.

"You may now kiss the bride."

Alexander lifted his young lover's veil, his brown eyes clouded with tears of joy and passion as his lips moved to hers, and suddenly there was applause, and Alexander knew that surely this was not the end of an era, but the beginning of another in Pleasantview's name.


End file.
